My Little Angel

In grade one I had a friend named Michael Steele who died of Leukemia. I didn’t know Michael for very long but he impacted my life, my heart and my mind. As a six year old I somehow unconsciously made the choice to name my future son after him.

It was 1984 and I had just graduated from high school, my parents had recently separated and I went to live with my Mom and her sister in a nearby town. My aunt worked at a grocery store and I got a job there for the summer.

That’s where I met Bruno, he was a nice guy from the community and we hit it off well. He asked me out on a date and we had such a good time that we spent the night talking crunched up in his car until the wee hours of the morning. When I got home my Mom was waiting at the door, she called me a slut, I was devastated how could she assume something like that. In a rebellious fashion I went out a few more times with Bruno and finally did sleep with him.

A few weeks later I was late….I told my Mother and she called the rest of my family (Dad, two brothers and my sister)to see what I should do. They all agreed I should get an abortion. I had no say in the decision as I was only seventeen and just out of high school with no income and no home.

My Mother booked us a train ride to Montreal and as I slept she met and chatted with a nun who was heading home to Montreal. They apparently had a discussion about me and when I woke up she had changed her mine about wanting me to get an abortion instead she wanted to drop me off at a convent in Montreal with the nun.

I was so angry and I defiantly said I would still go through with the procedure but of course I had no idea what was about to happen.

We arrived at Dr. Morgentaler’s Clinic and I sat in the waiting room along with a few other young scared women some of which looked like they were about to deliver.

When my name was called I met with the Doctor who asked me if I knew what I was doing and I signed something to confirm that I did. The procedure was excruciating, it felt like my insides were being pulled or sucked out of me.

After it was done I was led downstairs and as I shivered in a room alone afterwards I cried and cried, I felt so empty physically, emotionally and spiritually. Nothing could have prepared me for this and I kept asking God for forgiveness but nothing took away the emptiness or feeling that part of my soul was gone.  The train ride back was silent and soon after I moved in with my Father.

Less than a year later I got pregnant again, I think in some ways I was trying to fill the void or get rid of the pain and I might have purposely let it happen and I am so glad I did as I was lucky to have my beautiful daughter, she is the reason I kept going and wanted a better life.

Four short years after giving birth to my daughter I had to have an emergency hysterectomy and my chances to have a son were gone at the age of twenty-one. Somehow I was convinced that I was being punished for having the abortion.  To come to grips with the pain I named the child Michael.  He would have been 27 years old now, no matter how much time passes I still vividly remember every detail of that horrible day and I will never forget my little boy.

Today I have an affinity to the Archangel Michael, he is my guide in all that I do and I strongly pray that he keeps a watchful eye over the son I never got to hold – R.I.P Michael.

Why do I write this story and expose my painful past to others, I hope it makes everyone appreciate life and in some way writing this helps me move on and get rid of all the hurt I’ve held inside.