My Name is Kate and I Just Killed My Baby

by Duane L. Ostler

looked like he could be my grandpa. As I came up to him he was discussing the upcoming rally with half a dozen men and women.

  "Now remember," he said firmly, "there can be absolutely no physical contact with anyone going into the abortion clinic. That would violate the law Clinton signed back in '94. So don't touch anyone. We can't prevent them from going in. And we need to be careful not to say anything to them that could be interpreted as a threat. That would be a violation of the law too. I don't want any of you ending up in jail."

  A chill went through my heart. Jail! Is that what might happen with this rally? Still, it was worth it if it would help stop abortions. There was nothing I wasn't willing to do.

  "What about the new city ordinance, about how we can't get closer than 50 feet from the clinic?" asked a lady.

  Mack grunted in disgust. "It's probably unconstitutional, as a violation of free speech under the First Amendment. But we'll abide by it." He shrugged. "Ever since the Supreme Court handed down Roe v. Wade in '73 and forced abortion to be legal in all 50 states, it has sometimes been reluctant to fully enforce free speech rights of protestors at abortion clinics. I guess that makes sense, since it's hard for the same court to both enforce abortion and free speech against abortion at the same time. Frankly, we'd be less likely to get thrown in jail if we were protesting poisoning whales than butchering human fetuses. But such is the state of the law in this country."

  There was a murmur of disapproval from the group. "It's a bit different in Australia," said one man in a distinctly foreign accent. "You can demonstrate the same as any other organization."

  "I wish that was true here," said Mack. "I suppose it is to some degree, since the lower federal courts are better at enforcing the free speech laws equitably for all demonstrating groups. Anyway, Australia legalized abortion by legislative action and voice of the people. The United States is the only country on earth that legalized abortion by a 7 to 2 vote of a court, even though the court ruling overturned abortion laws made by millions of people in almost all 50 states. We need everyone we can get to fight and turn the tables back around again."

  There was another murmur from the crowd. I hadn't known any of this, of course. Is that really how it became legal in America? By a court decision of a few nutty judges? I thought it was some act of Congress.

  "Americans like to think they're a pretty enlightened bunch," continued Mack, who was apparently quite good at speech making. "They think they're far superior to ancient Romans who sent people they didn't like to feed the lions, or the ancient Aztecs who sacrificed their children to their Gods. But the truth is, abortion is no different. Aborted children are sacrificed for the God of sexual gratification. Sex is more important than life. Sounds disgusting, but some people actually think that way. And there are 1.2 million abortions in America every year to prove it, with an estimated 42 million worldwide each year. They estimate that a billion babies have been aborted since 1980."

  My stomach lurched as I heard this. How could this be possible! Were there really that many stupid people in the world? A billion aborted babies? Over a million a year in America? It was unthinkable!

  Mack gave a few more instructions then disbursed the group. After that I went right up to him.

  "Mack?" I said, shaking his hand. "I'm Kate. I called yesterday about joining your group."

  He looked at me curiously for a second. "I see," he said. Something in his response didn't quite add up.

  "What's wrong?" I asked. "Did I get here too late for the rally? Can't I go with the others?"

  Mack looked at me for a minute without saying anything. Then he gently took my elbow and steered me over to the far corner of the room where our conversation would not be overheard. He suddenly startled me by asking, "How long since your abortion?"

  "How did you know?" I blurted. "Does it look that obvious? Is it written in my face or something?"

  "No, not at all," said Mack with a sad smile. "I've just been in this business a long time. I can usually spot them. They've been through hell and back with what they did, and want to make up for it somehow. So they shoot off to join an anti-abortion group. Am I right?"

  I nodded. "Are there really that many girls like that?" I asked.

  "Not all that many," he answered. "But enough for me to see the pattern." He let out a long breath. "And also enough for me to know that I can't use you right now. Maybe next year."

  "Can't use me?" I blurted loudly, my heart sinking. "Why?"

  "Look," he said patiently while straightening his glasses. "You're going through a recovery and healing process right now. You've reached a point where you want to do something--to get involved, and end the evil that shattered your life. It's good you feel that way, but my experience tells me if you join a group like mine right now it could cause you harm. Your own wounds are too fresh right now. You need more time to heal. Otherwise you can get scarred."

  "Scarred?" I repeated dumbly. "I don't get it."

  He smiled blandly. "The anti-abortion activist thing is a brutal environment. It can turn even a kindly housewife into a hardened woman, condemning others when she should be learning to love them instead. It's 100 times harder for someone like you, still recovering from the shock of abortion to avoid becoming harsh too. What you really need right now is an environment of love and service, not combat."

  I frowned. "You don't know what I need!" I said firmly. "I want to do this. I HAVE to do this! I was listening when you told all those statistics on abortion a minute ago, and you didn't mention loving people then!"

  "True," he said with a rueful smile. "But I say what I need to say, depending on my audience. That bunch needed some fire put in their bones, to help them make it through their six hour shift of total boringness while holding signs. You don't need that, since you've got plenty enough fire already. But what they need and I need and you need and we all need in this world, whether we're for abortion or against it, is more love and kindness. Love solves more problems than arguments, you know."

  I frowned at him. "Well, whether that's true or not," I said slowly, "I'm here now and I want to be put to work. You can't turn me down!"

  "Oh, yes I can," he answered casually. "I know you'll resent me for it, and probably just go out and find another anti-abortion organization to join. But right now I can't use you. Maybe next year after more time has passed since your abortion. In the meantime, I'd advise you to go out and improve your chances of healing by getting away from the subject of abortion for awhile and serving in other ways. There's lots of ways you can, you know."

  My lip quivered. "You're really, actually turning me down?" I said in disbelief. "You just told all those people the cause needs as many people as it can get! And now you're turning me down?"

  Mack took out a piece of paper and a pen and hastily wrote something down. "Here," he said, handing it to me. "Go see Peter. He can use you, I'm sure."

  "Peter?" I asked questioningly. "Is he the leader of another anti-abortion group?"

  "Not exactly," said Mack. "But he is the leader of a group that needs volunteers." He looked deeply into my eyes. "Trust me. I've seen this all before. Just go see Peter. He can use you, and I know it'll be a lot better for you."

  I stared dumbly at the paper. Before I could say another word, Mack sauntered away. "Hey Joe, how about you and Sally making a half dozen more of those fetus posters." He called out. Our discussion was clearly at an end.

  Stunned, I walked slowly out of the building and wandered down the street. This was positively weird. Here I was, ready, willing and able to do anything to end abortion, and some old guy who didn't even know me told me to forget it and do something else instead! How did he know what was best for me? THIS was the best therapy I could have--I was sure of it! What better way to get over my abortion than to fight against further abortions?

  Well, I guess that meant I'd have to go searching online again to find ano
ther anti-abortion group to join. I just hoped its leader wasn't as weird as Mack.

  I looked down at the paper in my hand. Peter. Mack thought some guy named Peter could use me for something. The address was close by, and I was already here in town. It was a long bus ride back, with nothing but mom staring vacantly into space when I got home. What would it hurt if I just went over there and saw what type of organization Peter was running? Then I could go home and look online for another anti-abortion group.

  So, silly me, I went wandering down the street not knowing what I was getting into or what type of group Peter was running.

  May 24

  It didn't take long to find the address Mack had given me. But as I looked at the place I thought he must have written it down wrong. The place was an old, run-down house with broken windows and a sagging front door that looked like it might fall off its hinges any second. It was obvious the place was deserted and no one lived here. Mack must have been off his nut.

  A young guy was sitting on the front step of the abandoned house. He wore a black leather jacket and black jeans, and his hair stood straight up in a spiky mohawk. He had multiple piercings--two through his lips, one in his nose, and three in his ears--and a shiny chain hung down from his belt. I also noticed a few tattoos on his hands and arms. In short he