“Your life would be so miserable if I hadn’t had those two abortions” my mother casually told me as she dropped me off at school. As a young fifth grader her words didn’t really sink in and to be honest, I mostly tuned out her mentally ill ramblings but as an adult I often ponder her reasons for going through with not only one but two abortions as well as telling me at such an early age. Having a mentally ill mother and an absent father I had to grow up fast, no one could take care of me so I had to hide behind a wall and avoid anything that could trigger emotional episodes. The strategy succeeded in making it through adolescence but caused many difficulties as an adult. I winced anytime someone would ask the dreaded question “So what made you so pro-life?” and would go through the list of excuses in my head for a plausible explanation, I just didn’t want anyone to know the truth.
I started getting involved in the pro-life movement in college however the town was small and thankfully there were no abortion facilities anywhere nearby. We hosted a couple of meetings but didn’t do too much with the ministry. It wasn’t until I moved to New York that I dove right into the pro-life movement; I started praying outside the Bleecker Street Planned Parenthood as well as sidewalk counseling on a regular basis. I had forgiven my mother for her abortions, but I realized much later I had forgiven her for the wrong reasons. I didn’t like my childhood growing up and had internalized the message she always gave me “I saved those children from years of unhappiness.”
At an early age I tried to run away from home and my sister left the house at 16 because she couldn’t take it anymore. Child protective services were called numerous times on my mom and dad and so, I agreed with my mother, those children would have been miserable. I was dealing with trauma-based depression that made daily life exceedingly difficult and while I publicly affirmed the value of life, I was hypocritical when it came to my own siblings. It was better that those two brothers of mine did not have to deal with all the wounds that would have come from growing up in my family. As I began to experience more healing in different areas of my life, the depression lifted, and I started to enjoy what God was offering me. I realized that no matter how bad a person's upbringing is, they can always move past that and find healing.
All through life I had met so many bitter people who never seemed to want to heal and I had just assumed that that would be me but thankfully Jesus had different plans. I was feeling more whole which prompted the question “Maybe my brothers would have had a terrible childhood, but that doesn’t mean they would suffer forever.” I had heard of Rachel's vineyard and had suggested it to my mother but was met with eyerolls and an exasperated gasp. I didn’t know what to make of it. Of course abortion hurts women. I had seen this firsthand at Planned Parenthood, but I didn’t understand why my mother felt no guilt or any sense of regret over her decision. Little did I realize I was looking at myself in the mirror. People had suggested the Entering Canaan Ministry Sibling Retreat to me multiple times and I had always thought “How nice!” but for other people. Other people needed healing from that but not me and so I just filed it into the back of my head and tried to ignore the wounds in my heart.
It wasn’t until three years later that I finally started opening up to people that my mother had an abortion. It was in 2020 during the first wave of infections and lockdowns when I started calling everyone I knew and loved to check and make sure that they were ok. After I had called the last person it hit me, would I be calling my two brothers right now if my mother made a different decision? I buried that thought but thankfully Jesus was still knocking.
Little by little I started opening up to more people about my mother and my two brothers. After three years of various people suggesting a “Siblings Retreat” I finally decided to take the leap of faith and said yes. It was providential, a week before my birthday and on Divine Mercy Sunday. Saint Faustina had always followed me throughout my conversion, and I could feel her saying “Come! Receive God’s healing!” Arriving at the retreat I was met with warmth and love by the team. This was the 14th year of Lumina hosting the Entering Canaan’s Sibling retreat which was developed by Theresa Bonopartis, Michael Corsini and the Franciscan Friars of the Renewal. I was afraid that they immediately would say “Your mom had an abortion!” But thankfully that never happened. For the first time in a while I felt like I fit in with everyone.
All the retreatants had similar stories to mine, ones of abuse, deep wounds, lots of pain, and difficulties with parental figures. I didn’t feel like my story was too much and was eager to listen in on how people have coped with knowing they lost a sibling to abortion as well as how they deal with their own dysfunctional upbringing. I tried to hold in the tears, but Jesus was gently knocking my walls down. We talked about many things on the retreat. Did you ever feel like your mother was distant from you growing up? Do you have survivor's guilt? How did you find out? Do you have a relationship with your sibling? Which led to the climax of the retreat where we prayed in Adoration before Jesus and gave our siblings a name. My mother had refused to ever name them but she had always referred to them as two boys and so I chose for her: Maurice and Angelo. Maurice for Maruice Ravel who composed the cacophony “Bolero” which was what my heart felt like on that retreat and Angelo because he was now a little Mexican angel in heaven. My mother would have hated these names, but I gladly wrote them down in the book of life thanking Jesus for this opportunity to humanize someone I would never meet in this life. The train ride back to New York was a whirlwind. I felt simultaneously lighter and heavier but immensely grateful that I had said yes to the call to go on this retreat.
A few months later I went on vacation with my mother and sister in northern California and I finally got the courage to tell my mom about the retreat and all the things I had learned. I explained to her that I felt a distance from her growing up and she actually apologized to me. It wasn’t exactly what I was looking for, just a quick “I’m sorry” but it was a beautiful start to hopefully more healing for me and my mother. I pray now to my two siblings asking for their intercession from time to time. On the first Saturday of the month our church prays in front of Planned Parenthood, however we get quite the number of protestors. As I hold my rosary while a man cusses me out, a masked individual plays the tuba to drown out the rosary, and a lady screams “fascist” I am able to smile. I am praying this rosary for my two older brothers in heaven.
Bernadette Patell.
