Choice Chat - Personal Stories - 13 Years of Change

A Personal Story on the Choice Chat Podcast

In this poignant episode of Choice Chat, we share Stephanie’s deeply personal and powerful story of navigating motherhood, loss, and the decision to have an abortion. Her reflection is a testament to the complexities of reproductive choices and the long road to understanding and reclaiming one’s voice.

Stephanie never imagined she would make the decision to end a pregnancy. Yet after enduring multiple miscarriages, navigating the depths of secondary infertility, and raising three children, she found herself facing a choice that tested every layer of her being. Her story explores the toll on mental health, the strain on marriage, the role of family, and the quiet strength it takes to choose yourself—especially when the world might not understand.

Stephanie’s words remind us that abortion isn’t just a political issue—it’s a human one. Her vulnerability opens space for others to feel seen, heard, and less alone.

If her story resonates with you, we invite you to listen—and if you’re ready, share your own.

Contact us: choicechat@humanistcanada.ca

Choice Chat: Where truth is heard, stigma is challenged, and choice is honoured.

Thanks for listening to Choice Chat, a Humanist Canada podcast about choice, dignity, and reproductive justice. We’re glad you’re here. Do you have a story to share? Do you want to suggest a topic? Email us at choicechat@humanistcanada.ca or connect with us on social media. We look forward to hearing from you. 

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Transcript

CHOICE CHAT – PERSONAL STORY - 13 YEARS OF CHANGE

Narrator (00:18.542)

Choice Chat believes in the power of real voices. In this segment, we're sharing personal stories from people who have faced deeply personal choices about pregnancy and abortion. These are stories of resilience, heartbreak, healing and hope told by those who've lived them. They remind us that abortion isn't just a political issue. It's a human one. By listening, we honour their courage and help dismantle the silence and stigma that still surrounds reproductive healthcare in Canada.

In 13 years of change, Stephanie reflects on a life shaped by motherhood, love, and the hard-won clarity that came from making a choice she never imagined she'd have to make. Stephanie shares how that decision opened the door to healing, growth, and a deeper understanding of what it means to choose yourself. Her story is tender, complex, and ultimately full of hope. 

Stephanie (01:22.91)

When I was first asked to share my story, I was eager and honoured to do so. I assumed I could complete it in a single weekend. That weekend, however, turned into two months. Each time I sat down to write my thoughts, my heart found ways to distract me, avoiding the deep introspection required to confront how after 13 years, I continued to feel about my decision to have an abortion.

Every attempt to write my story brought knots to my stomach and a deep sadness to my soul as I relived the path that led me to that moment. When I have spoken about my abortion, it has only been with a very small group of women. Each time I've told it as if I were the detached narrator, shielding myself from the emotions tied to my younger self. I could express sympathy towards her, but I kept my deepest feelings locked away behind high walls. I have never shied away from discussing abortion, even if I held diverging views from others. I do not judge another woman's choice. As a woman, I once considered myself pro-life, but not in the way society has come to define it. I never would have imagined I would have an abortion.

 Today, my definition of pro-life aligns more with pro-choice. I believe every woman has the right to choose, the right to shape the life she needs at that moment, no matter how painful that choice may be. She must be able to look in the mirror and say, no matter how painful this has been, this is the best decision for me.

Growing up in a religious family, but not conservative, we were raised to value and respect life. Coming from a large extended family, I witnessed many times when life was neither cherished nor honoured. I imagine raising my own family with those same values, embracing all the complexities and messiness that comes with living truthfully.

The painful reality that challenged the very foundation of my marriage and my willingness to endure profound pain did not surface until years into our marriage. As newlyweds, my husband and I joked about slowly becoming adults after buying our first home, our first couch, and adopting our first four-legged furry child. When we decided to have children, we conceived quickly, and our first child was born.

 But when we tried to expand our family, we sadly faced devastating losses. Miscarriages, emergency hospital visits for ectopic pregnancies, ruptured fallopian tubes, and DNCs. Only later did I learn I had what is known as secondary infertility. As I grieved my many losses, my friends started having their own children.

I felt the joy of knowing what pregnancy could be, but I also carried the pain of repeatedly losing a child before ever meeting them. Through it all, I was grateful for the support of family and friends who held me up. Given everything I had been through, one might assume I would never choose to have an abortion, especially after successfully giving birth to my third child just a year prior.

The day I terminated my pregnancy, I knew a part of me had died and would never fully heal. For those who judge women who have abortions, who assume it is an easy decision, a form of birth control, I can tell you it is neither. It is the loss of a future never realized. The what could have been, the late-night chats, the morning hugs, the tears of joy and frustration. It is a grief that lingers. So why did I do it if it still brings tears to my eyes all these years later? Why didn't I continue the pregnancy and give the baby up for adoption? Why did I go against what I believed in? Because my life, my health, my wellbeing mattered more. My marriage was on the brink, and my mental health was fragile. I stood at the precipice of losing everything. My marriage, my sense of control and stability, my ability to raise my children in the way they deserve. My husband had always been clear. He only ever wanted two children. Then we had a third. Three beautiful, loving, bright souls who bring light into the world. A fourth child was more than he was willing to accept. I was angry when I learned I was pregnant for the last time. I sat in the bathroom and cried. Even before the conversation with my husband, I knew it would be excruciating. I was resentful of him. As I anticipated his reaction, I despised the pregnancy before I even allowed myself to consider the possibility of loving it.

Through this pain-filled journey, I am forever grateful to my sisters. They stood beside me without judgment, allowing me to cry, to rage, to sort through the torment of my decision. They supported me no matter what, whether I chose to leave my husband and raise four children alone or stay and terminate the pregnancy. Without them, my struggle would have been even greater.

For a long time, they were the only ones who knew. It was years before we told my parents. That conversation still plays in my mind like a slow-motion psychological thriller. I have never seen so much disappointment, anger, and sadness in their eyes as I did that day. My husband took the blame, telling them if they needed to hate someone, it should be him.

He was the one who didn't want a fourth child and supported my decision to end the pregnancy. My parents despised him for putting me in a position that I thought forced me to go against my values and my beliefs. For a long time, they barely spoke to me, only maintaining contact for the sake of their grandchildren. Though we eventually repaired our relationship, I believe a small fracture remains, a space that will never fully heal. I often ask myself, if I had known then what I know now, would I have made a different choice? I don't think I would have. Though my journey since that day has been filled with joys and sorrows, I don't believe bringing a fourth child into the world would have been the right path for me. I also know my marriage would not have survived had I gone through with my pregnancy.

 And despite its imperfections, my marriage is where I am meant to be. Raising our three children, building a life together, strengthening our bond through all of its ups and downs. Nevertheless, I sometimes wonder who they would have been when I see other children playing. If there is one thing I want to share, it is this. Many, though not all, who struggled with choosing to have an abortion, never fully find peace with their decision. And that's okay. Like many pains and sorrows in our life, the ache dulls over time, although never disappears completely. The choices we make do not define us in totality. We are ever evolving beings capable of a myriad of emotions, love, laughter, anger, and grief. Through it all, I hope you will find compassion for yourself most of all. Be gentle, know that you are worthy of love, and know that you are allowed to be the person who you know is in your heart, who you can truly be. 

Thank you for taking the time to hear my story.

Narrator (11:04.618)

Thank you for listening. When someone shares what they've been through, it cuts through the silence and reminds us that we are not alone. If you have a story to share, we invite you to add your voice. Whether it's quiet or bold, painful or empowering, your experience could offer hope, comfort or clarity to someone else on their journey. Contact us at choicechat@humanistcanada.ca. Together we're building a space where truth is heard, stigma is challenged, and choice is honoured.